BAPTIZE ALL THE BABIES

Today I presided over my first baptism as a pastor. There are pictures to prove it.

For future reference, I need to practice pouring water while using a seashell. Poor kid ended up with water in his eyes.

Pastor Marc presiding

Pastor Marc, Baptism

Why Reformation Sunday?

Why Reformation Sunday?

Many Lutheran churches across the world are celebrating the “birth” of the Reformation. Martin Luther, a monk living in Germany and teaching at the local university, was disturbed by practices in the local church. He saw the church being a hindrance to God’s love and mercy rather than dispensing that love and mercy to those who needed it most. His experiences didn’t match fully with what he saw, what he learned, and what he taught. This struggle led him to reach out to his local university community. He wanted to talk about his experiences and thoughts with his local professors. Using the practices of his day, Luther wrote 95 statements (called theses) and posted them to the public bulletin board of his day: the front doors of his local university church. Luther was using the Facebook, Twitter, and social media tools of his day. What he expected was a few professors to respond back. What he didn’t expect was the firestorm that followed. This firestorm gave birth to the Lutheran church – an understanding of Christianity that leads to all of us gathered at Christ Lutheran Church today.

Now, 497 years later, many are wondering why we still celebrate this day. We don’t live in Germany, we aren’t monks from the 15th century, and the questions Luther faced are not necessarily the questions we face today. Luther was a person of his era, a prolific writer who wrote beautifully, faithfully, spiritually. He was a man of God. He also said many things that I wish he didn’t, including anti-Jewish tracts that we condemn fully and loudly. So how can this man who lived in a very different time help us today? How can his experience of God help our journey of faith as people with cars, smartphones, Twitter, Hondas, and reality TV?

And that question is why Reformation Day still matters. Luther’s legacy is more than just a set of unchanging thoughts about God, faith, and Jesus that we just happen to share. His true legacy rests in his willingness to continue a long tradition of engaging faith with experience, of keeping Jesus central rather than distant, and always seeing the Cross as an entrance to God rather than as an escape from God. Lutheran Christianity is a questioning Christianity. We are a people who proudly struggle with Jesus’ question to the disciple: “Who do you say that I am?” That question is our question. That question is a question we’ll always struggle with and we’ll never fully express all that our answer means. But that’s okay. We’re Lutheran Christians which means we aren’t finished yet. We are always being changed. We are always being reformed. So just how is God you, me, and all of us to be reformed?

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for 10/26/2014.

Sharing Communion: My First Time

On October 5 I presided over an entire Holy Communion worship service for the first time. I spoke the words of institution during a service for the first time. I actually held the entire liturgy for a full Holy Communion service for the first time. And while I stood behind that altar, about to raise the bread and say those words, I realized something:

This is something that I never truly practiced for.

To be clear, I did take liturgy in seminary. I learned from some amazing pastors and priests the art of holding worship. I’ve watched preachers for years say these words. I’ve stood behind the altar or before it, spoken the words, did the hand motions, and acted like I was in the midst of a sacred moment. I’ve wrestled with these words, written essays on these words, and served as an assistant or participant in worship hundreds of times. But even with all of that, I don’t think I was truly prepared for that Sunday where I stood before a congregation, said the words, held the bread, and played a bit part in serving the body for the Body.

Marc A. Stutzel Presiding Marc A. Stutzel Presiding

My memory of this moment is multi-layered. I stood there, not sure what to grab or what to point to. I spent my time in seminary focusing on the common cup. The congregation I serve uses those individual communion cups. The host was a solid piece of bread rather than just a big wafer or slice of pita. The tradition of the the prayer before the words of institution isn’t done at this church.

The moment felt very fast.

The words were spoken, the elements placed on the altar, and I was breaking it up, trying to figure out how to distribute the bread and also reminding myself to not forget to commune the assistants (like I did during my call Sunday). The moment was quick – but… it was sacredly quick. I knew the words I was saying. I knew their importance. I knew the logistics to put those words into action. And there was a certain weight to the words as I said them.

But this weight wasn’t what I expected. The words did not stick nor did they just sit there with some kind of sacred inertia that made them just hang like some sacred relic to be looked at from a distance. No, when the words came out, there was a movement away from the altar and straight to the people who were about to be nourished. There was an outward movement that I felt, experienced, and was excited by. The Lutheran understanding of the Eucharist focuses on the words “for you.” I didn’t expect my experience of saying the words to embody that focus. I thought that I might experience some sacred awe. Instead, I experienced some sacred serving. I’m truly thankful for that.

So this happened: Letter of Call Edition

Letter of Call, 2014

So this has been an eventful month. On September 28, I was called as Pastor of Christ Lutheran Church in Woodcliff Lake, NJ. I started on 10/1. Above is the letter of call. One of my goals through this transition is to be more diligent when it comes to blogging.

I have yet to meet that goal. Hopefully this blog post will be a start to something grand (and a rebranding as well).

One Coin

Then the Pharisees went and plotted to entrap him in what he said. So they sent their disciples to him, along with the Herodians, saying, “Teacher, we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth, and show deference to no one; for you do not regard people with partiality. Tell us, then, what you think. Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?” But Jesus, aware of their malice, said, “Why are you putting me to the test, you hypocrites? Show me the coin used for the tax.” And they brought him a denarius. Then he said to them, “Whose head is this, and whose title?” They answered, “The emperor’s.” Then he said to them, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” When they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.

Matthew 22:15-22

My sermon from 19th Sunday after Pentecost (October 19, 2014) on Matthew 22:15-22.

Play

Quarter See, Quarter Ignore

If you put your hand in your pocket or maybe your bag, how many coins would you find in there?

Before I moved to Paramus, I was obsessed with quarters. I probably hoarded them. Every time I went to the corner bodega to buy a snack or drink, I made sure to bring just enough cash to guarantee that a quarter or two would be handed back to me. I needed those quarters. I wanted those quarters. And if they gave me two dimes and a nickel, I was annoyed. Quarters were a big part of my life because the laundromat down the block only took quarters. The change machine was never working when I needed it. And my fellow laundry washers would rarely make change. We all needed those quarters to make sure we could finish our duty and leave that place with clean cloths. 

But, today, coins are weird. In just a few short months, coins have disappeared from my life. My previous obsession with quarters has disappeared. I no longer need them like I use to and so, in the rare time I use cash to purchase something, any coins end up in a piggy bank at home, forgotten and unused. These lovable quarters, with the face of George or maybe a mountain or flower or other state symbol – they lie in the darkness, unused and unnoticed. 

Today’s text from Matthew (Matthew 22:15-22) is one of those episodes in Jesus’ life that grows the more you think about it. It’s a text that seems to support the compartmentalization of our lives. We put politics in one box and religion in another. We can then divide out what is proper to each. But Jesus’ ministry never seems to support this view of the world. He argues over and over again that trying to neatly separate areas of our life is untenable. The problem is that real life is messy and dirty. The boundaries seem to bleed through or are porous. We spend a lot of time watching our carefully separated lives blend together and what was once black and white now appears very gray. But even in the middle of this gray, there’s still one thing that matters. Even if we’re able to compartmentalize all areas of our life so that everything and everyone stays in their proper place, there is still one who breaks through all those barriers and who fails to stay inside the box we create for them. Unlike those quarters I use to hoard, God doesn’t stay in the darkness even after we feel we no longer need God. God never seems comfortable staying in the boxes we create for God. God always breaks through because that’s just what God does. It’s one way I imagine God’s grace looks like.

And if God’s breaking through the barriers and walls I and the world creates, than just what kind of world is God looking for us to build instead?

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for 10/19/2014.

What’s your church uniform?

The Gospel Reading is Matthew 22:1-14.

I’ll admit that on most Sundays, I dress the same. I wear the same dark gray dress shoes, black slacks, and collared shirt. When I stand at the altar or the pulpit, I’m dressed in a white robe called an alb. Sundays in, Sundays out, I look the same. My uniform is my second skin on Sunday.

Prior to this Sunday uniform, I had another one. My Sunday mornings were a time when I didn’t go to the office or meet clients. The time was reserved for God and, also, for me. I came to church in what I felt was a more authentic me. Red Converse all-star chucks, skinny jeans, and maybe a t-shirt with a squirrel or a band name on it – I brought to God my more comfortable, freeing, creative, and honest self. I came as I was and as I wanted God to meet me as I was.

How do you want God to meet you? When you meet Jesus in the bread and drink, what do you want Jesus to see?

Our uniforms tell a lot of who we are and who we want God to see. And no one uniform is more authentic or real than the next. One person’s suit and tie can be another’s Birkenstocks and socks. But God always asks us to bring our honest selves to the table. That honesty requires reflection and prayer. That level of honesty requires a willingness to engage God throughout the week. That level of honesty requires a faith life that stretches into every day in the week. And like our four who are being confirmed today, even once we are made adult members of the congregation, our faith life isn’t complete nor is our faith life full. We live into our faith throughout our entire life. 

Faith is a journey. Faith is a challenge. Faith is a gift from God. And we’re not in this process alone. Jesus took a chance on you and continues to take a chance on you. In your baptism, you were given a uniform, a new second skin, and clothed with Christ forever. Jesus is your uniform. Jesus is with you. So how can you, clothed in Jesus, live out your faith this week?

Each week, I write a reflection on one of our scripture readings for the week. This is from Christ Lutheran Church’s Worship Bulletin for 10/12/2014.

Brand New Threads: A sermon on Confirmation Sunday.

Once more Jesus spoke to them in parables, saying: ‘The kingdom of heaven may be compared to a king who gave a wedding banquet for his son. He sent his slaves to call those who had been invited to the wedding banquet, but they would not come. Again he sent other slaves, saying, “Tell those who have been invited: Look, I have prepared my dinner, my oxen and my fat calves have been slaughtered, and everything is ready; come to the wedding banquet.” But they made light of it and went away, one to his farm, another to his business, while the rest seized his slaves, maltreated them, and killed them. The king was enraged. He sent his troops, destroyed those murderers, and burned their city. Then he said to his slaves, “The wedding is ready, but those invited were not worthy. Go therefore into the main streets, and invite everyone you find to the wedding banquet.” Those slaves went out into the streets and gathered all whom they found, both good and bad; so the wedding hall was filled with guests.

‘But when the king came in to see the guests, he noticed a man there who was not wearing a wedding robe, and he said to him, “Friend, how did you get in here without a wedding robe?” And he was speechless. Then the king said to the attendants, “Bind him hand and foot, and throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” For many are called, but few are chosen.’

Matthew 22:1-14

My sermon from the 18th Sunday After Pentecost (October 12, 2014) on Matthew 22:1-14.

Play

Fruit By the Foot

“Listen to another parable. There was a landowner who planted a vineyard, put a fence around it, dug a wine press in it, and built a watchtower. Then he leased it to tenants and went to another country. When the harvest time had come, he sent his slaves to the tenants to collect his produce. But the tenants seized his slaves and beat one, killed another, and stoned another. Again he sent other slaves, more than the first; and they treated them in the same way. Finally he sent his son to them, saying, ‘They will respect my son.’ But when the tenants saw the son, they said to themselves, ‘This is the heir; come, let us kill him and get his inheritance.” So they seized him, threw him out of the vineyard, and killed him. Now when the owner of the vineyard comes, what will he do to those tenants?” They said to him, “He will put those wretches to a miserable death, and lease the vineyard to other tenants who will give him the produce at the harvest time.” Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the scriptures: ‘The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; this was the Lord’s doing, and it is amazing in our eyes’? Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom. The one who falls on this stone will be broken to pieces; and it will crush anyone on whom it falls.” When the chief priests and the Pharisees heard his parables, they realized that he was speaking about them. They wanted to arrest him, but they feared the crowds, because they regarded him as a prophet

Matthew 21:33-46

My sermon from 17th Sunday after Pentecost (October 5, 2014) on Matthew 21:33-46.

Play